


Mr. Brightside

by jezmyl



Category: The Beatles
Genre: George Harrison - Freeform, John Lennon - Freeform, M/M, Mal and Neil are there too, McLennon, Ringo Starr - Freeform, m/m - Freeform, paul mccartney - Freeform, reupload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 09:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15748581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jezmyl/pseuds/jezmyl
Summary: When John reveals a secret to Paul, it threatens not only their careers but their friendships.(I’m horrible at summaries sorry.)





	1. It Started Off With a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> yo yo, so this I’m reuploading this fic because i saw it sitting in my google docs and decided to fix it up a bit. hope y’all enjoy !! i’ll be posting all the chapters at once so y’all don’t have to wait ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John decides to get something off his chest.

    It was 1965, 2:44 in the morning, and the world famous Beatles were on their American tour. All four band members had barely got any sleep the past few nights, as per usual. Which made it even more odd when Paul was awoken by a hand on his shoulder and a figure standing over his bed. Paul groaned, eventually opening his eyes and seeing the dark figure. Paul’s eyes widened as he tried to wrack his brain on what to do. Sleep still hung over him, and he was a bit slow. He glanced over to the bed on the other side of the room, seeing no figure in between the sheets. Instead of going on Paul’s first instinct-- which was to punch the man --he threw one of his pillows at the figure instead.

“Get to bed you git.”

    The figure cackled and leaned down to eye-to-eye level with Paul. The familiar sarcastic John Lennon voice pierced Paul’s ears.

“Evil never sleeps, Paul!”

“Well maybe evil knows when to shut up and lay there silently.”

    John remained silent and watched as Paul turned over and pulled the sheets up over himself farther.  
“We’ll have time to shut up and lay silently when we’re dead, c’mon! We have been cooped up in here practicing for half the day yesterday. Brian even threatened to take the ciggies away from us if we didn’t behave and practice, remember?”

    Paul grunted in response, shifting a bit. John frowned, pulling the covers down from Paul’s grasp.

“John what the actual hell?”

    Paul looked up to John and John held a finger out as if to silence him.

“I know you’ve already made your point or whatever, but just listen.”

    John walked over to his bed, reaching into the bedside drawer and pulling out a plastic baggy. Paul immediately recognized the aroma.

“How did you-?”

    John put a finger to his lips and smirked nodding towards the door. Paul sighed, sliding out from under the covers and then stopping before he reached John.

“And where do you suppose we go Johnny?”

    John frowned, pondering this for a bit, then nodded to the door.

“Just follow me, Macca.”

    John said in a bit of a falsetto voice, heading towards the door. Paul bit his lip, taking one last glance at his bed, then sighed and proceeded to follow the older man. John lead them down a hallway and into--

“A supply closet, really? What are we, six?”

    Paul criticized, looking at John and John shrugged.

“It’s either this, or no pot for Paul. Besides, if they smell this shit in our room they’ll _know_ it was us. If they smell it in some silly supply closet they’ll at least assume it was some rando.”

Paul grumbled, then groggily stepped inside the tiny area, resting his back against the wall and then sliding down into a sitting position. John did the same against the door, propping himself against it in case someone tried to come in.

    After a short while, both musicians were high and the smoke fogged up the small supply closet. Paul took a long drag of the drug, and then resentfully handed it off to John.

“See? Good to relax every once in awhile.”

    Paul chuckled, biting his bottom lip and looking up at the ceiling. Nothing really crossed his mind. It was nice for once. After a few seconds of staring up at the ceiling, he looked back at John. He watched as he inhaled the smoke and the way a small smile showed on his lips. Paul smiled in response, reaching for the joint.

“Uh-uh, what’s the magic word?”

“Give me the bloody joint or I’ll kill ye?”

    John chuckled, handing the drug to Paul, Paul snatching it and inhaling it as if it were his lifeline. John watched intently, the way Paul’s plump lips wrapped around the joint, sucking in the marijuana. His eyes glazed over, taking the joint out from between his lips and then exhaling, closing his eyes. John never really realized how _beautiful_ Paul actually looked. Normally, he’d push away these thoughts, but his numbed brain didn’t know any better. Paul looked back to John, their brown eyes catching each other’s gaze.

“What’re ye lookin’ at?”

    Paul asked a bit snappily, John simply sniffed and then smiled.

“You.”

    Paul chuckled, his words began to slur together as he spoke.

“You’re high off your arse, Lennon.”

“Maybe, but you’re one to talk, Macca.”

    Paul frowned, taking another inhale of the joint, then handing it back to John. John took it, slowly inhaling. His eyes innocently glanced over to Paul; and on a whim, he leaned over and crashed their lips. Paul gasped and John used this moment to breathe the marijuana smoke into the younger boy’s mouth. John pulled away, coughing into his shoulder and then backing up from Paul, staring at the boy intently. Paul swallowed the breath that John had given him, his eyes widening.

“John?”

    Paul questioned with a small cough, John simply stared at him, Paul trying to avoid his gaze.

“Wh-What was that?”

    Paul’s heart began to beat rapidly in his chest, from anger, embarrassment, or some other unknown emotion, he didn’t know. What he _did_ know, was that John had just _kissed_ him. Finally, he gained enough courage to look at John. The older man was smiling, a dopey kind of smile, but with a hint of the sarcastic Lennon smirk.

“Aw, was that Paullie’s first kiss?”

    John teased.

“Shut up you git, I’m being serious.”

    John’s grin faded away, and he stared at Paul for a little, not saying anything. Paul’s face was a soft red, his lips a little darker than normal. His hair was matted, and he was sweating from what John guessed was the smoke that heated up the room. His eyes were glossed over, and his pupils looked dilated. John looked back down to his lips, they were slightly parted as he breathed heavily.

“ _Well_?”

    Paul pressed, looking into John’s eyes frantically. John moved closer to Paul, Paul backing up a small bit out of instinct. John’s face was so close to the other male’s that Paul could smell the marijuana on his breath. John paused for a moment, looking to Paul’s lips once again, trying to give Paul an indication of what he was about to do. Giving that Paul didn’t move away, John leaned in, capturing those luscious lips once again. John started off kissing Paul slowly, letting Paul get used to the pace. Although it didn’t seem Paul was reciprocating very much. John pulled back, looking into Paul’s eyes, trying to read his expression. Paul swallowed roughly and then looked back at John, his eyes pleading.

    John leaned back in, connecting their lips again. Paul seemed to be trying to keep up this time, and John grinned into the kiss. He ran a hand up Paul’s thigh, pushing his chest against the younger man’s. Paul was stuck between the wall and John, who he couldn’t believe was _kissing_ him. Paul wrapped his arms around John’s neck, causing him to slide down the wall farther. John adjusted their position, placing his hands on either side of Paul. John squeezed Paul’s thigh, eliciting a small noise from the younger man. After a couple more seconds of their makeout session, Paul pulled away, shaking his head.

“No, no-- John this is-- this is _illegal_!”  

    John frowned as Paul pushed his chest, but he backed up nonetheless.

“So? Smoking weed is illegal too Paul!”

    John responded, searching in Paul’s eyes for any other hint of continuance.

“ _So_? Do you really want to see the next headline: ‘Lennon/McCartney, Actually Queers!’?”

    John grunted, leaning on his elbows. He stared at Paul for a little while, his face stoic and expressionless.

“If it means I get to be with you.”

    Paul’s heart sank, his eyes dropped to the floor. He heard the shuffling of John scooting a little closer.

“John.”

     Paul said softly, John lifting Paul’s chin gently, staring into his big doe eyes.

“How long have you felt this way?”

“Longer than I care to admit.”

     John sighed and looked away, taking his finger from Paul’s chin.

“I'm sorry, Johnny, I can't do this with you.”

     John looked up longingly as Paul began to fidget with his baggy shirt and stand up.

“I really am very sorry. I won't say anything about it though, yeah?”

     John inhaled deeply, then sighed, nodding slowly. Paul took one last glance at John before opening the supply closet door and heading back to their room. John sat in the supply closet, thinking about everything that just happened. True love and heartbreak all in the midst of ten minutes.

      John stayed in there for another hour, staring at the smoke that began to dissipate. He heard footsteps, and then the door swung open to reveal a soaked McCartney.

“Hey, why are you still in here? Get back to the room with ye!”

      He seemed to ignore everything that had just happened only an hour or so ago, John felt a pain twist in his chest.

“You’re gonna get arrested now c’mon will ye?”

“If not getting arrested for this shit, I’ll get arrested for being queer anyways so why bother?”

       John mumbled, Paul frowning and leaning down towards his face. His hair dripped with water, the towel around his waist snug against his hips.

“You sure you really wanna be getting _that_ close to _me_? I might kiss you again.”

        John mocked, eventually standing up, making Paul stumble backwards a little.

“Johnny, I’m sorry. I really am, how can I prove to you that I'm truly sorry?”

“You can start with a blowjob for one.”

        Paul frowned, crossing his arms.

“I'm being serious.”

“So am I.”

        Paul rolled his eyes, patting John’s shoulder as he walked back down the hall to their room. John eventually followed, and he didn't even remember his shower, or teeth brushing, or when he slipped into bed. Mainly because a certain _someone_ still happened to be occupying his mind.


	2. How Did It End Up Like This?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John doesn’t take too well to rejection.

John awoke to Brian calling from outside the door for Paul and him to get up and get ready. He then heard Brian’s footsteps fade, and then more yelling for Ringo and George to do the same. After a minute or so, John cracked open an eye, then sat up, glancing around the room.

    Paul emerged from the bathroom, adjusting his bangs. John sat up and groggily rubbed his eyes. Paul bit his bottom lip and walked over to his bed, packing his clothes back into his suitcase. Ignoring the other. John walked over to him and ruffled his hair out of spite. He knew the Beatle probably had combed it to perfection earlier, and that it’d be funny to piss him off.

“John!”

    Paul complained, slapping John’s hand away. John frowned, ruffling Paul’s hair more rapidly, causing it to frizz up a bit. Paul made a growl of protest and ducked out of John’s reach, and then slid behind him. The younger Beatle began to try and adjust his bangs. Not even looking over to John, he mumbled,

“ _Dammit_ , John.”

“ _Oh no!_ Did I mess up the princess’s hair? _My_ bad!”

    John replied smugly, Paul’s and his eyes locking for a second, and then John slowly looked to the floor. He heard an aggravated sigh, and then the sound of Paul’s footsteps drawing nearer. John remained silent as he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Look at me at least.”

Paul said softly, John not budging for a few seconds, then finally turning around to face the other man. John stared into Paul’s eyes, then his gaze went to the floor.

“Can _you_ look at _me?_ ”

Paul remained silent, staring at John. He wasn’t exactly sure what the latter was getting at.

“What do you mean? I am looking at you.”

John frowned, his hands tightening into fists.

“I _mean_ , can you ever look at me the same way you used to? The ‘sarcastic, stone-cold’ John Lennon you used to be best mates with?”

    Paul frowned, his breathing getting a bit heavier. He remained silent, his gaze falling to the floor. John finally looked up, Staring at Paul intently.

“ _Well?”_

    Paul stayed quiet for a couple more seconds, then, still looking at the floor, looked to the side and began to slowly walk past John.

“We should probably get going.”

    Paul mumbled, hearing an aggravated growl from John. John reached out, grabbing Paul’s wrist, keeping him from walking any further.  
“No, Paul! You can’t do this to me! You can’t just go avoiding my question!”

    John yelled, not caring if someone heard his frantic words. Paul looked up to John slowly and spoke softly.

“John let me go.”

“I _can’t!_ It’s not that easy!”

    Paul began to develop an irritated tone.

“You could start by letting go of my _wrist_ , John.”

Instead of doing so, John’’s grip only tightened, causing Paul to wince as the other’s nails dug into his skin.

“No! I’m not letting you go until you answer me, Paul!”

    John’s eyes shook back and forth as he stared at Paul.

“John, _let GO of me_.”

“Not until you _FUCKING ANSWER ME_!”

    John screamed, now holding a vice grip on Paul’s wrist. Paul grunted and winced, but stood still. Trying to make physically fighting John his last option, but the more the argument went on, the harder it got to talk him down. Paul wondered if they were still talking about the same thing.

“John, you’re hurting my wrist.”

    Paul said, his voice getting a bit louder.

“ _Good!_ Maybe it’ll give you some incentive!”

    John said, his voice getting louder by the minute.

“JOHN! Let GO of me!”

    Paul said, his voice rising now as John’s grip continued to get tighter and his fingernails dug into his skin.

“ANSWER ME AND I’LL LET YOU GO!”

“STOP BEING A BABY, JOHN!”

    There was silence, and then a loud thud echoed through the room, and then all was silent. Not even a second later, George and Ringo slammed the door open, given Paul and John forgot to lock it last night. The drummer and guitarist stumbled into the room, taking in the sight before them. Paul was sitting on the floor, fists clenched. John stood above him, his left hand shaking, the other still out where Paul’s wrist had been.

    “Paul, John, we heard the yelling from over nextdoor, what the hell is the matter?”

Ringo questioned, looking down as Paul began to stand. John put his right hand down to his side and watched the other touch the side of his face. George stepped forwards, then stopped as Paul stood up and looked over his shoulder. George and Ringo saw blood trickle down his chin. A bruise also began to form on the side of Paul’s pale skin. They cringed and then looked back to John as Paul turned his face back to him.

“John’s just being a bitch because he didn’t get what he wanted.”

    Paul said slowly, eyes locked with John’s the entire time. Ringo opened his mouth to say something, but a loud slap rang out through the room and Paul didn’t even stumble. His head simply swung to the side upon impact. A red handprint began to form on the other side of Paul’s face.

“What the actual fuck, John? Yer making Paul a fucking Picasso painting with all the marks you’re leaving.”

    George said sternly, glaring at John.

“What’s your problem?“

    Ringo asked gently, not trying to upset anyone.

“Are you boys ready yet? Brian is--.”

    Mal walked in and stopped, taking in the scene before him.

“What on Earth is going on?”

“John’s gone mad, he keeps on hittin’ Paul!”

George replied, looking to Mal.

“Should I tell Brian?”

    George nodded, and Mal walked out of the room and down to Brian’s. George looked back to John and grabbed Paul’s forearm gently.

“I’m takin’ Paul to Ringo and I’s room to get ready.”

    George looked to Ringo, who was still astonished at how the Lennon-McCartney duo were acting.

“Ringo, stay with John. We’re all going to have to get on stage and play together, but until then. Cool off, both of you.”

    George looked to John and then to Paul. He then lead Paul out of the room to his and Ringo’s’ nextdoor. John stood still, looking at his hands and then clenching them into fists, not really listening to all of Ringo’s questions.


	3. It Was Only a Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian intervenes.

George walked down the hall with Paul, Paul clutching the side of his face. It was eerily quiet, and George hated it. He was so curious as to what happened, he knew it’d be rude to inquire about it, but he _had_ to know if he wanted to cheer Paul up.

“So, Paul,”

George broke the silence as he unlocked the door to Ringo and his’ room. Paul looked up at him with eyes that conveyed no emotion.

“What happened? Why did he— ya know— knock ya one?”

George opened the door and Paul pushed past him and walked inside, George following and closing the door behind him.

“Well, we were just jokin’ around and it got a little out of hand. That's all.”

Of course George didn't believe it, but obviously Paul didn't want to talk about it, so he wouldn't push it. He watched as Paul sat down on the edge of the bed, dazed.

“Well I'm sure John feels terrible about it, Paul.”

George tried to reassure him, but he was immediately shot down.

“Can we just drop it?”

Paul asked, staring at the ground. He knew why John had been so aggressive, he wasn't an idiot, he just didn't understand how he himself felt. He didn’t have the answers John wanted.

The whole room was quiet for what felt like hours until Brian slowly creaked the door open.

“Lads? Are you alright?”

He finally swung the door open all the way and ran over to Paul, crouching down to his eye-level. He tried to get Paul to look at him, but the boy just kept his gaze on the floor. Brian sighed, speaking softly, but hurriedly.

“Paul? What happened? Are you alright?”

Paul kept his gaze down and to the left of Brian as he spoke.

“It's nothing, really.”

Paul reassured, George rolling his eyes and Brian furrowing his brows.

“Well obviously not if you and John are in _separate rooms_. You lads are normally _inseparable._ Tow in tow.”

Brian stated sternly, they couldn't afford to be late to this performance because of some petty drama; however rude that sounded. Paul finally looked up into Brian’s eyes. Something in those eyes pleaded Brian. Brian grabbed Paul’s wrist to hoist him upwards, Paul cringed, turning his head to the side and covering his face with his free hand. Brian frowned, letting go of Paul’s wrist, seeing that it seemed to trigger something within the other lad.

“Paul, come here.”

Brian ordered, Paul slowly getting up, Brian walking towards the door and Paul following him.

“We’ll be back in a second, George.”

George nodded, Brian opening the door for Paul and then walking through afterwards, closing it behind him.

“What’s going on, Paul? What happened?”

Paul looked down to the carpet in the hallway and then back to Brian.

“I…”

Paul bit his lip, glancing at his and John’s room down the way.

“I'm fine, Eppy.”

Brian looked at Paul with tired eyes, Paul sighed.

“Okay, look, you absolutely cannot tell John, alright?”

Brian nodded, resting his hand on the wall and leaning against it.

“Well, John is queer for me. I still don't know how I feel about the whole thing. I mean- I love him- but as a mate or something more, I have no idea.”

Paul paused, watching as Brian gulped harshly.

“He was just teasin’ me a little, and then it got personal I guess. He hit me twice, but I don't really think he meant it. He was just temperamental, you know.”

Paul finished, inhaling deeply and then slowly exhaling. It felt good to talk to somebody about the situation, especially someone who was actually queer.

“Look Paul, I think you two just need to sort it out. Easier said than done I know, but just tell him that. Surely if you tell John that you're unsure, he’ll understand.”

Paul groaned and nodded, leaning his back onto the wall, looking towards the ground.

“I thought you’d say that.”

“It _is_ the right thing to do, after all, Paul.”

Suddenly, the door to Paul and John’s room swung open, John storming out of it.

“This is bullshit.”

Brian and Paul heard him mumble. Paul’s eyes connected with John’s for a second, but Paul quickly looked away to the floor.

“What’re you doing, Macca? Having a staring contest with the ground?”

John snarled, Brian stepping in front of Paul and crossing his arms.

“John, Paul, you two need to work this out, okay? I can't have you two making complete idiots of yourselves!”

Brian exclaimed, fumbling over his words under John’s intense stare.

John narrowed his eyes, pushing past Brian and walking over to Paul. Both men were around the same height, but to Paul, John felt a thousand feet taller.

“You never even gave me an answer, Paul. I deserve that at least, you know that.”

Paul stopped avoiding eye contact, he cleared his throat quietly and locked eyes with John.

“Yeah, well, John, have you maybe considered I don't even have an answer yet?”

Brian began to approach the two, but John shot him a glare and Paul held out his hand.

“Just because you _want_ an answer doesn't mean I _have_ one yet, John.”

Paul spoke calmly, John frowning as he slammed his hand on the wall beside Paul’s head.

“Stop being a tease, McCartney. You damn well have an answer now let’s hear it.”

Paul growled, pushing John’s chest, causing John to stumble backwards.

“Don't fucking test me, Lennon.”

Paul mumbled, looking to John with eyes that just _dared_ him to do something. John smirked to himself, Paul raising a brow.

“Oh look at little Paulie here, getting a little bit angry, are we?”

John teased, poking Paul’s nose for extra annoyance.

 Paul puffed his chest, trying to seem intimidating.

“I'm the same height as you, Lennon! Now back off, I don't hav--!”

Paul was cut off by another hand slamming against the wall, next to him, and then a pair of lips crashing against his. It all happened so quickly and Paul grunted out of surprise.

“Mm- John, sto--!”

Every time Paul tried to make a noise John simply kissed harder. Paul didn’t reciprocate and Brian turned a faint pink and looked away. Paul’s fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, trying to decide on what to do.

“Fuck- John, seriously--!”

John leaned over Paul, pushing the other boy downwards. Paul slid down the wall, trying to get a good grip so he wouldn't fall all the way down. Although he tried to suppress it, Paul let out a soft moan. He didn't want John to know he enjoyed the kiss, Lennon _wanted_ him to enjoy it.

Finally, Brian decided to intervene, picking John up a bit by the waist and dropping him away from Paul.

John squirmed a bit out of surprise, and fell onto his knees as he was dropped. Quickly scrambling back onto his feet, he smirked as he glanced at the disheveled McCartney.

“We have to be at our performance in twenty minutes at the most! At least _act_ like you two are getting along!”

Brian said, biting his lip as he paced the hallway.

”I’d say we had been getting along just fine if you hadn’t stopped us.”

  John mumbled.

“Dammit! John!”

Ringo’s voice called out as he ran out of the still opened door to Paul and John’s room.

“There you are! Gave me a bloody heart attack!”

Ringo clutched his chest for dramatic effect. John rolled his eyes as Brian raised a brow.

“Yer alright, you git.”

John mused, shoving his hands into his pockets, and glancing to Paul.

“Ringo, what happened?”

Brian eyed John and John stuck out his tongue.

“John said he was going to take a shower but left it running! After a little bit of chatting I finally noticed and went to turn it off and clean up the mess. I didn't know John ran out.”

Brian sighed, not looking at John or Paul. He ran a hand through his hair and then looked to George and Ringo’s door.

“You all can go tell George we’re leaving. We don't have time to primp and prepare now because of all this. You two-”

Brian gestured to John and Paul with his thumb.

“-get dressed, you can comb your hair in the cab. I don't care if you two aren't getting along, the fans came for the quirky, fun Beatles. Not the fucking WWE.”

Brain mumbled under his breath, hastily lighting a cigarette. He walked down the hall, leaving the four boys to themselves.


	4. It Was Only A Kiss...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beatles head to their concert.

After Ringo got a hold of George, the youngest and oldest Beatle took off down the hall after Brian. Subsequently leaving John and Paul by themselves to sort it out.

“I’m going to— um— put my tie and jacket on. Hold tight.”

Paul walked back to his and John’s room, quickly putting on his paraphernalia and then rushing back out. Paul looked to John, actually taking a step back to assess him. Although he had most of his suit on, the man’s tie was loosely hanging from the back of his neck, and his hair was a mess. John looked at Paul, scanning him over.

“Like what you see, princess?”

    John mocked, raising a brow.

“John. Now’s not the time for that.”

    John bit his lip and looked down to the floor. Both men didn’t know what to say, so they just stood in silence for a while.

“Hey— let me, um, help you.”

    Paul said, stepping towards John and straightening his posture a bit. The younger male began to run his hands through the the other man’s light brown hair, trying to fix it. John let him do this for awhile, and then gently grabbed Paul’s right wrist. Paul cringed, and turned his face away. John frowned and wrapped an arm around Paul’s waist, pulling him closer. He let go of Paul’s wrist and put his finger under Paul’s chin, turning his face back towards John. Paul looked at John, putting his left hand on John’s arm that was around his waist. They were both quiet, staring at each other, until John leaned in, once again claiming Paul’s plump lips. John let his eyes close as Paul scrunched his nose, his grip on John’s arm tightening a bit. John kissed him gently, as if trying to apologize for his asinine behavior. Paul still didn’t reciprocate, he wanted to, but he didn’t want to promise anything to John by it. John slowly pulled off of Paul’s lips, inhaling deeply as be opened his eyes. Even when Paul was rejecting him, John still adored him. The fact that Paul let John kiss him without beating him, or calling him names still amazed John. John looked straight into Paul’s eyes, sighing slowly.

“I love you.”

    He said, not regretting it at all. He really did love this man, and he wanted Paul to know it. Paul was quiet, as if deciding what to say.

“I know.”

    Paul stated, looking down towards the floor again.

“We should probably go.”

    John cleared his throat and nodded, letting go of Paul’s waist. Paul tried to hide the blush that was now spreading across his face, but it was too late. John had already noticed and raised a brow. He decided to tease Paul a little, maybe to ease the tension.

“Aw, is wittle Macca embarrassed?”

John said, walking around Paul and then slowly starting to walk down the hallway.

“Fuck off, Lennon.”

Paul said, trying to sound angry, but he couldn’t hold back his chuckle. It was nice to joke around with his best mate, it almost felt normal again. Paul set off down the hall alongside John.

After about three minutes, both men stepped out of the elevator and began to walk towards the lobby. As they were about to round the corner to the main desk, two hands pulled at the back of their suit coats.

“What the hell?!”

    John growled as Paul gasped, both fell backwards into a sitting position.

“Guys, it’s just us.”

    John and Paul looked back and saw George, Ringo, and Brian.

“What’s going on?”

    Paul asked, speaking quietly as he turned to face the others.

“The fans have crowded around the hotel. We can’t go out there until Mal and Neil come back with the rental. They’ll be pulling up to the door in the back of the hotel.”

    Paul nodded, glancing to John quickly, then looking towards the wall.

“Did you guys work it out, then?”

    George said with a smirk, John elbowing him in the chest.

“Watch it, Harrison.”

    John threatened, George letting out a chuckle at John’s hostility. Suddenly, they heard a loud slam, then panting. Out came Mal and Neil, gasping for air.

“You lads better hurry! Those girls are fast! Even in bloody heels!”

    Neil stated, Mal nodded along. The five other males stood up, sneaking with Neil and Mal to the back and out the door. A horde of girls of all different ages were several yards away. Ringo gawked and then slid into the cab, John, Paul and George following behind. Brian hopped in the back with the other four, and then Mal and Neil hurriedly jumped into the front.

“Drive, Neil, drive!”

Brian said, patting the back of Neil’s chair. Neil grunted, pressing his foot on the accelerator. The four Beatles and Brian sat in the back silently, Ringo and Brian staring out the windows on either side. Paul, John and George staring at the back of the front seats and to the floor. Brian eyed Paul and John, who were sitting next to each other with no problem, or at least so it seemed.

After about seven minutes Neil stopped the car behind the stadium, security and cops waiting to escort them. George, John and Paul got out on Ringo’s side, about to close the door when Brian spoke up.

“We’ll be backstage, _behave._ ”

    He said sternly, looking from John to Paul.

“Especially you two.”

    John and Paul nodded, the four boys walking towards the cops and security guards. The guards handed George, John and Paul their instruments gently, and Ringo his drum sticks.

“Your drums are already set up, Mister Starkey.”

    Ringo nodded and furrowed his brows, annoyed that someone else touched his drums.

“Just go through that door over there and head to the stage. Then just go through your stage list and stuff and that’s it.”

    John rolled his eyes, Paul nodding and George and Ringo making petty chat.

“Yeah, we’ve done this before, sir.”

    John said, crossing his arms over his chest. After one minute, the security guard with a walkie-talkie held it to his ear.

“Okay. Boys, you’re on in five-”

    George adjusted his guitar strap, the other two doing the same.

“Four, three,”

    Ringo cracked his knuckles, Paul and John cleared their throats.

“Two, go.”

    Ringo, George, Paul, and John stepped out into the stadium and walked to the stage, looking around at the hundreds of people filling up the seats. The four took their spots on the stage, Ringo shuffling behind his drums, Paul, George and John getting their own microphones. George looked to John and Paul, who shared a glance. Paul walked up to the microphone, adjusting it to his height.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen.”

    Paul started the usual introduction, then jumped into the first song. Paul could feel John’s eyes on him, and tried to concentrate on the music. This was going to be a long concert.


	5. Now I’m Falling Asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Paul have a talk.

The concert was going as usual. Lots of teenage girls screaming their names throughout the entire performance so they could barely hear their own instruments. As their last song ended, Paul spoke a ‘thank you’ into the microphone, John giving an over exaggerated wave and yelling,

“Thank you so much, you’ve all been a _lovely_ audience.”

in a falsetto. Paul gave a small smile towards the crowd, causing some girls to scream _extremely_ loudly. George raised his brows and Ringo simply gave a small wave as he clutched his drumsticks. The Beatles looked to the crowd one last time, then took off, hearing the girl’s screams getting a little more distant as they exited the stadium.

“Good job, boys.”

    Mal said with a thumbs up, John grunting and pretending to fix his tie sarcastically.

“WELL _thank you_ , Mal.”

    John said, wiggling his brows as he let his hands slip from his tie. Paul quickly glanced to John, staring at the loose tie that hung from his neck, then looking away before someone noticed.

“Let’s get to the bus, boys. It was late this morning but it’s here now.”

    Brian grumbled, running a hand through his hair, mumbling something about ‘know’s who he’s working for?’ ‘too much pressure.’

    The Beatles chuckled, following Brian to the bus, Mal and Neil behind them. They began to move a little faster when they heard feminine screams get louder and louder.

“I knew it was too easy.”

    Paul said with a small laugh.

“It’s probably a record though, we got a whole minute to ourselves!”

    John mused looking at Paul, they chucked in unison, then Paul quickly cleared his throat and looked away. Ringo saw the altercation and raised a brow, looking to George as George shrugged.

    They all quickly boarded the bus, Paul and Ringo sitting in the front and George and John taking up the back. The bus ride back was smooth, they heard the screams every-so-often, but there weren’t any ‘emergency evacuations’ so they deemed it a win. John and George talked to each other, George occasionally calling to Ringo. Paul and Ringo chatted about pretty much anything, Paul occasionally hearing Brian speak to him. Paul didn’t really pay attention to either of them. He couldn’t really pay attention to anything except what had been bugging him all day. He heard his name being called, and startled out of his daze, he raised his brows. His face turned a slight red as he realized he’d been subconsciously staring at John.

    John gave Paul a concerned look, and then Paul whipped his head away to Ringo. John frowned, putting a hand up for George to stop talking. George sniffed, muttering

“‘Tis a bit rude.”

    Paul glanced quickly to John, watching him get up, and start moving towards him. John approached Paul and Ringo, standing in between them.

“Why don’t you go hang with George? He’s lonely, yanno.”

    Ringo looked to George, then shrugged, getting up from his seat.

“All yours.”

    Ringo said, John saluting him as he sat across from George. John sat in the seat Ringo had been in, staring into Paul’s dark brown eyes.

“What’s going on, Paul?”

    John questioned, Paul crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know very well what’s going on, Lennon.”

    John chuckled, Paul pouting and staring at him.

“What?”

    Paul asked, John’s laughter dying down.

“You just look especially like a pissed off bird when ya do that.”

    Paul tried to remain angry, but couldn’t help but laugh. The two fell silent until John spoke up gently.

“Look, Paul, can we--?”

John was interrupted by Mal walking to the two.

“Hey, we’re back at the hotel, time to get off.”

 Paul glanced back to Neil who was saying the same to George and Ringo, Brian was busy talking to the bus driver. He looked back to John, John looking at the ground in frustration.

“Um, yes, thank you, Mal.”

Paul nodded and smiled, hearing John mumble something under his breath. Paul grabbed his arm gently, John looking at him. Paul smiled and nodded towards the door, John nodded as well and they both walked off the bus and into the hotel. George and Ringo followed closely behind them, all four boys huddling into the lift. It was a quiet ride up, one of the four making a comment every now-and-then, causing some of the others to chuckle. Once on their floor, Paul dug through his pocket, giving George the key to his and Ringo's room that he’d gotten before they left. George gave a nod and him and Ringo went down the hall back to their previous rooms. John and Paul looked at each other, then headed towards their room.

“What were you going to say back there?”

Paul asked, proceeding to unlock the door.

“Well, I was just going to say,”

John interrupted himself and sighed, stepping into the room and taking his coat off and undoing his tie the rest of the way.

“I was going to say that, can we just forget the beginning of today? I feel like such an asshole for hitting you.”

John looked at Paul, putting a gentle, but firm hand on his shoulder.

“It's alright. I knew you were just upset.”

Paul said in a soft voice, looking at John, then back down to the ground. John tried to connect their gaze again, but Paul still wouldn't look up. He caressed the side of Paul’s face, Paul biting his lip.

“Does it still hurt?”

John asked, seeing Paul tilt his head up and their eyes locked.

“It still stings a little. Other than that s’okay I guess.”

Paul spoke softly at first, and then as he spoke again he got a little more stern.

“Actually, John, I can't forget about this morning.”

John tilted his head, frowning.

“Why not? Oh shit did I traumatize you?”

John asked, burying his head in his hands.

“No, no, no! Nothing like that! I just don't think I can forget what you said. A-About loving me.”

Paul’s voice trailed off, John searching in Paul’s eyes for some kind of explaination.

“Yes? What about that?”

Paul ran a hand through his perfectly combed hair, looking away.

“I don’t exactly- um…”

    Paul gulped, taking in a deep breath and tugging his tie loose. John raised his brows.

“I don't exactly think I'd be...a-against the idea of us being— eh— you know— an item.”

John raised a brow.

“A card?”

Paul tried, John tilting his head.

“Partners?”

    Paul whispered the word ever so quietly, trying to keep his breathing slow and concise. John’s eyes widened, subconsciously leaning closer to Paul.

“Wait, really? I swear to god if you’re fuckin’ with me, Paul!”

Paul shook his head.

“I'm serious, I thought about it. I— uhm— wow this is even more nerve-wracking to say than I thought.”

Paul cleared his throat, straightening his posture a bit to seem more confident.

“I thought about it, during the concert.”

Paul glanced away from John’s eye contact for a second, then looked back.

“It's not like I don't _want_ to be with you but…”

John laid his hands on either of Paul’s shoulders, staring him in the eyes. Paul flinched a little.

“But what? What Macca, tell me and I’ll make it a top priority.”

John said with a look of absolute desperation and sensitivity.

“I don't want to make any silent promises. I mean— fuck, John, you—.”

John gulped, removing his hands from Paul’s shoulders.

“You have a _son_ , John. Not to mention a wife. I have Jane, so I can't be attached to just you. I know we all do some, er, _sleeping around_ but this…”

John looked down at the ground, thinking as Paul continued to relay his feelings.

“I also still like women, John. I know that I— erm— I love you as well but I’m not queer.”

John’s head whipped back up to look at Paul.

“Wait. Did you say you _love_ me?”

John smirked but a small blush was evident on his face, Paul blushed as well, clearing his throat.

“Well, yes, because it's true.”

John was taken aback, thinking Paul’d deny it out of pride.

“O-Oh.”

John stammered.

“Well here's the deal. We can have a secret relationship. You know, one we don't tell _anyone_ about.”

Paul interrupted.

“That _is_ what a secret is, John.”

“Shush your pretty face, Macca I'm trying here.”

Paul chuckled, gesturing for John to continue on.

“Anyways, I won't tell Cyn, you don't tell Jane. It’s like all the other birds we’ve fucked, but _we_ can also do stuff together. Er— I don't mean just fucking, I mean other stuff as well. It’s be special, you know? Something only we know. A love only we share.”

Paul smiled, taking John’s hand in his.

“I think I’d like that.”

John smiled back, looking at Paul.

“Me too.”

John said, caressing Paul’s face.

“Paul?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Paul chuckled once again, wrapping his arms around John’s neck.

“I’d be insulted if you didn't.”

John chuckled, bringing his lips to Paul’s, and kissing the man tenderly. And this time, he complied, kissing back.

After a few more seconds, which they wished could go on forever, they pulled away.

“I love you Paul. Really I do.”

And _this_ time, Paul responded.

“I love you too.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i was thinking of adding a reflection chapter??? like it would take place a year or so after this happened and it’s just kinda j/p going about their day and how it’s changed for them both. \\(•.•/) I don’t know. lemme know what y’all think!!


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